idle thoughts of an idle fellow-第16部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

ning　the　shy　fellowwalks　into　a　room；　or；　turning　to　him　with　〃This　is　the　way　you　shake　hands；〃　proceeds　to　go　through　a　comic　pantomime　with　the　rest　of　the　room；　taking　hold　of　every　one's　hand　as　if　it　were　a　hot　plate　and　flabbily　dropping　it　again。　　And　then　they　ask　him　why　he　blushes；　and　why　he　stammers；　and　why　he　always　speaks　in　an　almost　inaudible　tone；　as　if　they　thought　he　did　it　on　purpose。　　Then　one　of　them；　sticking　out　his　chest　and　strutting　about　the　room　like　a　pouter…pigeon；　suggests　quite　seriously　that　that　is　the　style　he　should　adopt。　　The　old　man　slaps　him　on　the　back　and　says：　　〃Be　bold；　my　boy。　　Don't　be　afraid　of　any　one。〃　　The　mother　says；　〃Never　do　anything　that　you　need　be　ashamed　of；　Algernon；　and　then　you　never　need　be　ashamed　of　anything　you　do；〃　and；　beaming　mildly　at　him；　seems　surprised　at　the　clearness　of　her　own　logic。　　The　boys　tell　him　that　he's　〃worse　than　a　girl；〃　and　the　girls　repudiate　the　implied　slur　upon　their　sex　by　indignantly　exclaiming　that　they　are　sure　no　girl　would　be　half　as　bad。

They　are　quite　right；　no　girl　would　be。　　There　is　no　such　thing　as　a　shy　woman；　or；　at　all　events；　I　have　never　come　across　one；　and　until　I　do　I　shall　not　believe　in　them。　　I　know　that　the　generally　accepted　belief　is　quite　the　reverse。　　All　women　are　supposed　to　be　like　timid；　startled　fawns；　blushing　and　casting　down　their　gentle　eyes　when　looked　at　and　running　away　when　spoken　to；　while　we　man　are　supposed　to　be　a　bold　and　rollicky　lot；　and　the　poor　dear　little　women　admire　us　for　it；　but　are　terribly　afraid　of　us。　　It　is　a　pretty　theory；　but；　like　most　generally　accepted　theories；　mere　nonsense。　　The　girl　of　twelve　is　self…contained　and　as　cool　as　the　proverbial　cucumber；　while　her　brother　of　twenty　stammers　and　stutters　by　her　side。　　A　woman　will　enter　a　concert…room　late；　interrupt　the　performance；　and　disturb　the　whole　audience　without　moving　a　hair；　while　her　husband　follows　her；　a　crushed　heap　of　apologizing　misery。

The　superior　nerve　of　women　in　all　matters　connected　with　love；　from　the　casting　of　the　first　sheep's…eye　down　to　the　end　of　the　honeymoon；　is　too　well　acknowledged　to　need　comment。　　Nor　is　the　example　a　fair　one　to　cite　in　the　present　instance；　the　positions　not　being　equally　balanced。　　Love　is　woman's　business；　and　in　〃business〃　we　all　lay　aside　our　natural　weaknessesthe　shyest　man　I　ever　knew　was　a　photographic　tout。



ON　BABIES。

Oh；　yes；　I　doI　know　a　lot　about　'em。　　I　was　one　myself　once；　though　not　longnot　so　long　as　my　clothes。　　They　were　very　long；　I　recollect；　and　always　in　my　way　when　I　wanted　to　kick。　　Why　do　babies　have　such　yards　of　unnecessary　clothing？　　It　is　not　a　riddle。　　I　really　want　to　know。　　I　never　could　understand　it。　　Is　it　that　the　parents　are　ashamed　of　the　size　of　the　child　and　wish　to　make　believe　that　it　is　longer　than　it　actually　is？　　I　asked　a　nurse　once　why　it　was。　　She　said：

〃Lor'；　sir；　they　always　have　long　clothes；　bless　their　little　hearts。〃

And　when　I　explained　that　her　answer；　although　doing　credit　to　her　feelings；　hardly　disposed　of　my　difficulty；　she　replied：

〃Lor'；　sir；　you　wouldn't　have　'em　in　short　clothes；　poor　little　dears？〃　　And　she　said　it　in　a　tone　that　seemed　to　imply　I　had　suggested　some　unmanly　outrage。

Since　than　I　have　felt　shy　at　making　inquiries　on　the　subject；　and　the　reasonif　reason　there　beis　still　a　mystery　to　me。　　But　indeed；　putting　them　in　any　clothes　at　all　seems　absurd　to　my　mind。　　Goodness　knows　there　is　enough　of　dressing　and　undressing　to　be　gone　through　in　life　without　beginning　it　before　we　need；　and　one　would　think　that　people　who　live　in　bed　might　at　all　events　be　spared　the　torture。　　Why　wake　the　poor　little　wretches　up　in　the　morning　to　take　one　lot　of　clothes　off；　fix　another　lot　on；　and　put　them　to　bed　again；　and　then　at　night　haul　them　out　once　more；　merely　to　change　everything　back？　And　when　all　is　done；　what　difference　is　there；　I　should　like　to　know；　between　a　baby's　night…shirt　and　the　thing　it　wears　in　the　day…time？

Very　likely；　however；　I　am　only　making　myself　ridiculousI　often　do；　so　I　am　informedand　I　will　therefore　say　no　more　upon　this　matter　of　clothes；　except　only　that　it　would　be　of　great　convenience　if　some　fashion　were　adopted　enabling　you　to　tell　a　boy　from　a　girl。

At　present　it　is　most　awkward。　　Neither　hair；　dress；　nor　conversation　affords　the　slightest　clew；　and　you　are　left　to　guess。　　By　some　mysterious　law　of　nature　you　invariably　guess　wrong；　and　are　thereupon　regarded　by　all　the　relatives　and　friends　as　a　mixture　of　fool　and　knave；　the　enormity　of　alluding　to　a　male　babe　as　〃she〃　being　only　equaled　by　the　atrocity　of　referring　to　a　female　infant　as　〃he〃。　Whichever　sex　the　particular　child　in　question　happens　not　to　belong　to　is　considered　as　beneath　contempt；　and　any　mention　of　it　is　taken　as　a　personal　insult　to　the　family。

And　as　you　value　your　fair　name　do　not　attempt　to　get　out　of　the　difficulty　by　talking　of　〃it。〃

There　are　various　methods　by　which　you　may　achieve　ignominy　and　shame。　By　murdering　a　large　and　respected　family　in　cold　blood　and　afterward　depositing　their　bodies　in　the　water　companies'　reservoir；　you　will　gain　much　unpopularity　in　the　neighborhood　of　your　crime；　and　even　robbing　a　church　will　get　you　cordially　disliked；　especially　by　the　vicar。　　But　if　you　desire　to　drain　to　the　dregs　the　fullest　cup　of　scorn　and　hatred　that　a　fellow　human　creature　can　pour　out　for　you；　let　a　young　mother　hear　you　call　dear　baby　〃it。〃

Your　best　plan　is　to　address　the　article　as　〃little　angel。〃　　The　noun　〃angel〃　being　of　common　gender　suits　the　case　admirably；　and　the　epithet　is　sure　of　being　favorably　received。　　〃Pet〃　or　〃beauty〃　are　useful　for　variety's　sake；　but　〃angel〃　is　the　term　that　brings　you　the　greatest　credit　for　sense　and　good…feeling。　　The　word　should　be　preceded　by　a　short　giggle　and　accompanied　by　as　much　smile　as　possible。　　And　whatever　you　do；　don't　forget　to　say　that　the　child　has　got　its　father's　nose。　　This　〃fetches〃　the　parents　（if　I　may　be　allowed　a　vulgarism）　more　than　anything。　　They　will　pretend　to　laugh　at　the　idea　at　first　and　will　say；　〃Oh；　nonsense！〃　　You　must　then　get　excited　and　insist　that　it　is　a　fact。　　You　need　have　no　conscientious　scruples　on　the　subject；　because　the　thing's　nose　really　does　resemble　its　father'sat　all　events　quite　as　much　as　it　does　anything　else　in　naturebeing；　as　it　is；　a　mere　smudge。

Do　not　despise　these　hints；　my　friends。　　There　may　come　a　time　when；　with　mamma　on　one　side　and　grand　mamma　on　the　other；　a　group　of　admiring　young　ladies　（not　admiring　you；　though）　behind；　and　a　bald…headed　dab　of　humanity　in　front；　you　will　be　extremely　thankful　for　some　idea　of　what　to　say。　　A　manan　unmarried　man；　that　isis　never　seen　to　such　disadvantage　as　when　undergoing　the　ordeal　of　〃seeing　baby。〃　　A　cold　shudder　runs　down　his　back　at　the　bare　proposal；　and　the　sickly　smile　with　which　he　says　how　delighted　he　shall　be　ought　surely　to　move　even　a　mother's　heart；　unless；　as　I　am　inclined　to　believe；　the　whole　proceeding　is　a　mere　device　adopted　by　wives　to　discourage　the　visits　of　bachelor　friends。

It　is　a　cruel　trick；　though；　whatever　its　excuse　may　be。　　The　bell　is　rung　and　somebody　sent　to　tell　nurse　to　bring　baby　down。　　This　is　the　signal　for　all　the　females　present　to　commence　talking　〃baby；〃　during　which　time　you　are　left　to　your　own　sad　thoughts　and　the　speculations　upon　the　practicability　of　suddenly　recollecting　an　important　engagement；　and　the　likelihood　of　your　being　believed　if　you　do。　　Just　when　you　have　concocted　an　absurdly　implausible　tale　about　a　man　outside；　the　door　opens；　and　a　tall；　severe…looking　woman　enters；　carrying　what　at　first　sight　appears　to　be　a　particularly　skinny　bolster；　with　the　feathers　all　at　one　end。　　Instinct；　however；　tells　you　that　this　is　the　baby；　and　you　rise　with　a　miserable　attempt　at　appearing　eager。　　When　the　first　gush　of　feminine　enthusiasm　with　which　the　object　in　question　is　received　has　died　out；　and　the　number　of　ladies　talking　at　once　has　been　reduced　to　the　ordinary　four　or　five；　the　circle　of　fluttering　petticoats　divides；　and　room　is　made　for　you　to　step　forward。　　This　you　do　with　much　the　same　air　that　you　would　walk　into　the　dock　at　Bow　Street；　and　then；　feeling　unutterably　miserable；　you　stand　solemnly　staring　at　the　child。　　There　is　dead　silence；　and　you　know　that　every　one　is　waiting　for　you　to　speak。　　You　try　to　think　of　something　to　say；　but　find；　to　your　horror；　that　your　reasoning　faculties　have　left　you。　　It　is　a　moment　of　despair；　and　your　evil　genius；　seizing　the　opportunity；　suggests　to　you　some　of　the　most　idiotic　remarks　that　it　is　possible　for　a　human　being　to　perpetrate。　　Glancing　round　with　an　imbecile　smile；　you　sniggeringly　observe　that　〃it　hasn't　got　much　hair　has　it？〃　　Nobody　answers　you　for　a　minute；　but　at　last　the　stately　nurse　says　with　much　gravity：

〃It　is　not　customary　for　children　five　weeks　old　to　have　long　hair。〃　Another　silence　follows　this；　and　you　feel　you　are　being　given　a　second　chance；　which　you　avail　yourself　of　by　inquiring　if　it　can　walk　yet；　or　what　they　feed　it　on。

By　this　time　you　have　got　to　be　regarded　as　not　quite　right　in　your　head；　and　pity　is　the　only　thing　felt　for　you。　　The　nurse；　howev